Thank God it was warm this time. It was June, the beginning of summer, and Jack and Ennis had managed to get up to the cabin. For three days running they had hunted elk–unsuccessfully as it turns out–and they had spent the first two nights joined in easy passion with the lights out. After dinner on the third night they sat out on the porch in their shirtsleeves, rocking in twin rockers. They didn’t say much. Instead they listened to the night music of the wilderness. It was after nine, and Ennis considered going on to bed. But Jack had another notion. He wanted to drive down the mountain and get a drink.

“We got beer here.”

“Come on, Ennis. There’s a place right at the turnoff.”

“It’ll take us over an hour to get down there, and that means an hour gettin’ back,” said Ennis, sounding bullheaded, but somehow communicating that he had in fact given in.

It was close to eleven by the time they got to the bar, which was a plane cinder block building that had once served as a Texaco station. The pumps had been removed, the windows had been painted over, and a neon sign over the door read Pete’s Place. The sign went dark just as the boys pulled up.

On finding out they had missed last call Ennis’s first instinct was to turn around and go back. But Jack jumped out of the truck when he saw a stooped, weathered man with grey hair in need of a cut come out and head toward the only other pickup in the lot.

“You Pete?” Jack asked, open and friendly.

The man didn’t look up and continued toward his truck. “We’re closed. Slow night, so I’m going home. Come back tomorrow.”

Ennis got out, stood there at the fender, and watched Jack put the charm to the old guy.

“Come one, man,” Jack said sounding like a kid asking for one more ice cream cone. “My friend and I are camping up in the mountains, and we drove near two hours to get here.”

That cinched the deal. Old Pete hesitated a moment, and then looked up at Jack. “Tell you what, you boys go on in, drink what you want, and put the money on the counter.” He then threw his key ring over. Jack came close to missing it. “Lock up when you’re finished, and put that on the ledge over the door.”

After two beers Jack got up, plugged in the jukebox, and made a selection. The quiet, ghostlike hush of the room was suddenly replaced with Patsy Cline singing Crazy.

When Jack indicated that they should dance, Ennis looked at him like a frightened child.

“Come on, friend. Nobody’s here. Nobody’s goin’ a see.”

The two met on the worn linoleum and embraced. Their dicks quickly hardened as they pressed against each other, but they allowed the passion to fade. After two nights of lovemaking the old urgency was replaced by a different yearning. They danced for a long time, until the gentle sways slowed and stopped altogether. Then Ennis noticed he held a sleeping boy.

And that reminds me, I have been looking at monuments because I'm going to buy one for my parent's graves soon, and an idea popped into my head. Wouldn't it be great if someone made a life-sized bronze statue of Jack and Ennis in their classic dozy embrace so it could be placed at the head of the graves of a gay couple?

Ennis kept feeding Jack, smiling happily, enjoying the sense of the warm moist soft lips when out of a sudden Jack caught hold of his hand, and started to lick the juice off his thumb, then sucked each single finger deep into his hot mouth, wrapping his tongue around it, closing his lips tightly, and unzipped Ennis´ jeans...

Dagi, this is certainly hot, but it is also romantic, as well. I love hoe the sensuous act of eating leads to other things! Lovely work, Sweetheart!

Jack woke up in the hay with his still sound asleep cousin Eric in his arms. He didn´t remember how they had gotten into that position, spooned up closely, maybe this - despite his age - always frightful boy had been searching for comfort in the night.Jack enjoyed the warmth of Eric´s body, felt his hard dick against the boy´s butt. Following a sudden impulse he put his palm on Eric´s otherwise tiny, but now that it was erect, rather impressive penis and, overwhelmed by what he sensed, a low moan escaped from his throat.Much to his surprise his cousin placed his own hand upon Jack´s, pressing it even more onto his little hard cock. The sound of his own groan finally woke him up completely, and he jumped up and out and would avoid looking Jack in the eye for the rest of the summer.

“Owwww!” Ennis teased, as Jack placed tiny, soft bites along his bum cheeks! "Bite me a little more, Rodeo, I kinda like it,” Ennis exclaimed. Jack giggled as he licked as well as bit, first along the swell of Ennis’ buttocks, and then along his deep and narrow slit. Ennis pulled his bum away as Jack poised to place his tongue where the sun don’t shine!

Jack faced Ennis with a puzzled look. “Let me do it, Ennis... I wanna!” But Ennis pulled Jack’s face to his, gently forced his tongue down Jack’s throat. "Look, I wanna taste more of you too, but how are we gonna do this? Who does what to who first?"

Jack had an idea. “Look, just follow my lead, Cowboy. This is gonna be real good. That is, if you’re game.” Ennis nodded vigorously, and Jack took his position, flat out on the ground. “Now face my feet!” Jack ordered huskily. Ennis understood, and buried his head between Jack’s thighs. He positioned his bum right over Jack’s eager mouth. “Come and get it, Rodeo,” Ennis yelled as Jack grabbed his hips and pulled him down…

Ennis pulled his bum away as Jack poised to place his tongue where the sun don’t shine!

Littlewing1957, you are a wild woman! I'm certain this can be attributed to the dangerous influence of the notorious bum biter, Susiebell. She has us all under her nasty spell! Even the shy, unassuming Garycottle.

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"The most important thing is being sincere, even if you have to fake it." - Cesar Romero

Hey folks,I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Independence Day. I'm "goin' 'round the coffee pot to find the handle" so to speak. I'm going on vacation to sunny (and hopefully, not rainy) Florida for a week. I'll miss you guys!

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"The most important thing is being sincere, even if you have to fake it." - Cesar Romero